


Live and Let Burn

by displacerghost, setepenre_set



Series: These Things I'll Never Say [2]
Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Danger Kink, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Masturbation, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, pining of the loins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/displacerghost/pseuds/displacerghost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set
Summary: When an evening kidnapping doesn't go as planned, Roxanne takes matters into her own hands.
Relationships: Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi
Series: These Things I'll Never Say [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945129
Comments: 33
Kudos: 262





	Live and Let Burn

As the minutes tick by and by with no sign of the hero Megamind grows quieter and quieter, powering down the deathtraps and then turning off all the lights except for the one over Roxanne's chair.

He stays in _his_ chair, across the room, in darkness except for the green gleam of his eyes.

She tries to get him to talk to her at first but his responses are all quiet and short and so she falls silent as well, fear worming its way through her gut as the minutes tick by.

Megamind's stillness and silence are _new_ things to her.

It's terrifying.

At last his voice, out of the darkness, soft and dangerous and _polite_. "Your arms must be uncomfortable. Will you stay in the chair, if we untie you?"

Roxanne jumps a little, then forces herself to breathe, licking her lips nervously. "Can I have a cushion?"

Minion brings her two, one for her back as well, and a glass of water. He also moves her chair in Megamind's direction, pulling it closer to where the supervillain sits, angling it so that she'll be at the edge of the shadows and facing the tunnel Metro Man should enter through.

(Provided Wayne fucking _shows up_.)

Presentation. Yes. He's never lacked in that, and she can appreciate the threat, here.

The message they're sending together.

 _(That_ is an unsettling thought, sending a flutter through her gut that she doesn't want to examine.)

This side of Megamind is not one she wanted to trifle with.

When the hero finally _does_ arrive on the scene, he's all dazzling sparkles and bright smile.

"What kept you?" Megamind says, in that same quiet voice, and Roxanne sees Metro Man pause, very carefully assessing the situation.

No threats. No names. No hyperactive villain sputtering in jilted rage. No music, no laser show, no _cameras_.

And Roxanne watches in fascination as Metro Man _stutters_ , off-balance and suddenly on edge.

"Well, I thought. I mean, I had—something came up, and—"

"Something. Came. Up." Megamind says, enunciating each word clearly and separately in the same flat, and utterly calm tone, somehow making it seem a question.

 _This_ is the man that rules Metro City's underworld.

Roxanne tries to catch her breath as it seems to evaporate out of her lungs and white-hot electricity shivers down her spine.

Metro Man grimaces and takes a deep breath. Steadies his shoulders. "I had more important—"

"Miss Ritchi," Megamind purrs from behind her. "Would you come here for a moment, please?"

"Roxie, you don't have to—"

She shoots Wayne a look and rises to her feet in one smooth motion. Her steps echo very loudly across the metal flooring as she crosses out of the spotlight and into the shadows entirely, to stand near Megamind who is sitting relaxed and waiting in the big leather chair.

Megamind _is_ the villain. She _is_ supposed to do what he says. As the damsel.

He doesn't look away from Metro Man as she walks over but when she stops beside him, his eyes flick up to her face and he lunges forward and catches her wrist in one gloved hand. Before she knows what's happening she's been yanked off of her feet and onto his lap.

Across the room, Metro Man stands with a look of anger and fear on his face, unmoving, because Megamind has lifted the de-gun and the barrel is glowing in a deep crimson color she saw once years ago and before she can scream or Metro Man can come to a decision about what to do, Megamind points the de-gun at the chair Roxanne had been sitting in and fires.

The floor below the chair explodes in a fireball, splinters and shards of metal pinging off of the ceiling, hot wall of air blasting over Roxanne and she fights with every shred of dignity she has to not _cringe_ backward onto Megamind's chest.

He knows it, too, the smug _ass_. The hand he'd held her down with, curved over her knee like a vise, gives her a brief pat. She clenches her teeth so hard it makes her jaw ache but she'll be _damned_ if she gives _either_ of them any flash of her true feelings just now.

When the ash settles and smoke clears, Metro Man is standing there in _fury_ and Roxanne catches her breath because she has a sick, ugly feeling that things are about to get _very_ bad and—

Megamind shifts a little, releasing her leg. She doesn't move. She barely even _breathes_.

"Minion," he says quietly, and a bulky figure looms ominously out of the smoke.

"Sir?"

"Take Miss Ritchi home, please. We're done for tonight."

Metro Man stands straight and takes one half-step forward and Roxanne's fingers tighten, digging her nails into the leather armrest. " _I_ will—"

"I don't think we have any need of you, Mister Scott. In fact, as of this minute, you are dismissed. You may go now."

It looks to Roxanne that the only thing keeping Metro Man from going right through Megamind's body is the fact that she's effectively a human shield, sitting across his lap like this, and the de-gun is still raised and in his hand, casually pointed at the ceiling. A little smoke drifts off of the barrel. It smells of ozone and lightning.

Roxanne meets Wayne's eyes across the room and bares her teeth in a snarl.

He doesn't even leave them with a parting shot, just the dark look on his face that scares Roxanne as much as Megamind's current deadly nature.

(Fear, yes, this heart-humming hot-nerves insides-quivering feeling is _fear_ , it's not—not anything else, _nothing else at all_ —she is _not_ pressing her thighs together, just so, not panting and breathless and caught on the edge of—the edge—)

((Green eyes in the dark, teeth gleaming and _Miss Ritchi is mine_ —his hands holding her wrists above her head, pinned to the wall while he—))

The door _slams,_ echoing thunder, and Roxanne jumps in her seat, heart _leaping_ out of her chest. Megamind's hand closes on her thigh, tight and sudden, and she sucks in a hot breath that _evaporates_ —

It was Wayne, leaving, and she hadn't even been aware he'd left the room because—

Cheeks flush hot. _Lord have mercy_.

Megamind had caught her instinctively at her sudden movement, and releases her almost instantly. Fingers loosing their grip but— _god_ —she can still _feel them there_ , long and sure and—

He tips his head, catching her out of her—her _reverie_ —and says, "Apologies, Miss Ritchi. For the...unpleasant turn of the evening."

A soft breath of air escapes her. _Achingly_ aware that she is _still perched on his lap_ , she wets her lips. "Not your fault."

 _Guh_. Her voice is _nothing_ like steady, rough and deep and—and _affected_ , okay? This was—this was a, a _normal totally normal reaction to being_ menaced _by a supervillain_.

Megamind makes a face, brows lowered and mouth flat and sideways. "Yes. Well. Nevertheless."

And his hands close over her waist, guiding her to her feet in one smooth motion while she's busy having a heart attack about the fact that she can feel each and every one of those long blue fingers closed around her ribcage.

Megamind sets her on her feet and rises beside her, holstering the de-gun with a sigh.

There is a glowing _hole_ where the chair was sitting.

She stares at it, the red-orange ring in the metal, and thinks, distantly, that if she were the screaming type, now would be the time. She can hear her heart, loud as thunder in her ears.

There is a little sound from the villain and she turns her wide eyes on him.

"Thank you," Megamind says, quickly and quietly but emphatically. "For...participating."

Roxanne feels her mouth fall open. No sound comes out.

* * *

After she's home, there's a knock on her balcony door. She whirls on it, shouting at the drapes.

"I am _not_ on speaking terms with you!"

"I—oh, come on Roxie, calm down, I'm just here to say sorry—"

That _fucking—_ her vision whites out for a moment and _god_ she is going to feel like ten kinds of hell tomorrow, tension is thrumming through every muscle in her body and she's so mad she can't even see straight.

She tears the drapes aside and Wayne takes one look at her and jolts backward into the air. She does _not_ open the door because she is a little scared of herself, right now, she is _shaking_ and about two heartbeats away from having a complete destruction meltdown in her apartment.

"You were ninety minutes _late!"_

"Roxie I know, I knew he wouldn't hurt you, I—"

"Hurt me!" Her voice breaks, shattering on rage and adrenaline and exhaustion. _"Hurt! Me!_ You—you _asshole!_ He's the _supervillain_ , you don't rely on the supervillain with the destructo-beams and the crazy robots! To not! Hurt! The _damsel_ in god damn _distress!_ You're the _fucking_ hero! _You_ are supposed to come _save me!"_

"Roxanne, I—"

"Fuck you!"

She slams the drapes shut and with the explosive energy raging through her system, yanks down the steel storm shutters. And sinks into a puddle on the floor, sliding down with her back against the cold metal, burying her face in her hands and sinking her teeth into her lip to keep from screaming.

It isn't just Wayne. But he should have showed up on time, and he should not have come to see her after leaving her there for so long.

It isn't just Wayne.

She's furious but she knows what is hiding under that fury.

He'd _vaporized_ the chair. And from his lap, watching that destruction, watching the fire and the smoke and Wayne's look of shock and his hand had been curved around her knee, just _there,_ leather soft and cool against her bare skin where her skirt had ridden up, and she'd felt every even steady breath he took and the gun had been right next to her face and he could have turned it on her at any moment, turned the game into something _real_. That was the danger.

And she'd _liked_ it, hadn't she. Desire and excitement had slammed through her like a storm.

Because _how many fucking times_ has she imagined that _exact. fucking. scenario_. Sitting on his lap, in that big leather chair, guiding his hands all over her body, ending up with one leg over the arm rest and her head thrown back and her hands still on his, one on her breast and the other working his fingers inside of her and this fantasy could make her come so hard she couldn't walk straight, after, left her feeling dizzy and warm all over and blurry around the edges and—

Roxanne _surges_ to her feet, legs unsteady. Her knees don't seem to want to stay locked, her joints hot and trembling and loose, but she moves swiftly across the room to the kitchen table, where she'd carelessly tossed the mail after she got home from work, envelopes of bills, glossy advertisements, slim cardboard box—unlabeled, what the website had termed 'discreet packaging'.

It's this last that she goes for, tearing at the packaging tape savagely with shaking hands, too wild to take the time to find scissors or a knife. The tape refuses to give, so she rips the box open at the seams instead. Black tissue paper inside crackles when she plunges her hand into it. Grasps hold of cool silicone, and yanks the toy out of the box.

Blue, sky-colored— _supervillain colored—_ suction cup on the base, the shaft wave-shaped, nothing like _human_.

Roxanne can't seem to breathe, certainly can't do anything like _think_.

Her breath hisses through her teeth, an _angry_ kind of sound, and she _claws_ the buttons of her shirt open, hand tightening around the toy and it's all she can do to make herself take the time to go to the kitchen sink, slam the taps open, and rinse it off. Then she's crossing quickly to the _chair_ —sturdy, orange. Not leather but wood, which means that when she smacks the base of the toy down on the seat, the suction cup sticks securely.

_"Miss Ritchi—would you come here for a moment, please?"_

Roxanne makes a desperate, tangled kind of noise and drops to her knees. One hand in her own hair, fingers gripping tightly, the imagined texture of leather, pulling her head forward. Mouth open, wide and hungry, and the blue shaft is already slick from being rinsed and her mouth is _watering_ , and wrapping her lips around it and sliding her mouth nearly to the base of it in a single smooth motion is _easy._

_A low noise from above her, a wordless, dark purr of approval; a flash of green eyes like leaping sparks when she looks up, and the hand in her hair looses its viselike grip to stroke over her head, then gives it a reassuring pat._

Roxanne, mouth full of him, gives a muffled moan, and the fingers tighten in her hair again, pulling her back up, the irregular shape of the toy sliding over her tongue, and then tugging her back down. Captive, held, sucking him too hard and too fast, choking as she takes him too deep. Tears blur her eyes, her vision swimming; when he finally releases his hold on her hair and lets her come up for air, she gasps for breath.

 _The shape of him indistinct and wavery as she looks up at him again from her knees, blue skin and green eyes and a sharp slice of smile when she wipes the tears from her eyes. The de-gun in his hand, that crimson glow, and he_ **_twirls_ ** _it, deadly practiced grace that has Roxanne gasping for breath again._

Roxanne feels as if she's going to die if someone doesn't touch her soon; heat dancing over her skin, through her veins, heat pooling at the juncture of her thighs, drawing each of her nipples to aching attention.

 _One black brow quirks upward, amusement at her reaction, that_ **_smug, infuriating ass,_ ** _and he gestures, with the gun, an expectant 'please continue' motion._

Roxanne bites her lip hard enough to taste blood, _wanting_ to taste blood, cups her breasts in her own hands, fingers seeking out the hard points of her nipples through the silk of her bra, flicking at them, twisting them. Fingers still moving, she shoves her breasts together, pushes her chest forward, forearms braced on

_(Megamind's thighs)_

the edge of the chair as she puts his

_(cock? does he—? oh, who cares—)_

as she puts him between her breasts, and then rises up on her knees—falls back down and rises again, feeling him sliding up and down her cleavage, the slick wavy shape of him caressing the inside curves of her breasts as she teases her own nipples until she's making little gaspy noises of desperation and distress.

_A soft laugh from above her; Roxanne, still rising and falling helplessly on her knees, looks up to see him leaning with one elbow on the armrest, the de-gun pointed casually at the ceiling as he looks down at her, eyes smoldering, charcoal black and poison-fire green._

_"Uncomfortable, Miss Ritchi?" he asks, that soft, polite,_ **_dangerous_ ** _tone. "Your knees must be hurting."_

Roxanne makes a wordless, tangled noise.

_He bites into his slow smile._

_"Perhaps we should get you a cushion."_

A ragged cry, anger and desire and _need_ tears itself from Roxanne's chest; she lets go of her breasts and rises to her feet. Yanks the cups of her bra down, straps slipping over her shoulders, doesn't bother pulling it, or her shirt, off the rest of the way. Rolls her taut bare nipples viciously between her fingers, making the nerves there _sing_ , and then shoves her skirt up, her panties down—

_Megamind's eyes flicking down her half-undressed body and then back up to her face and he lunges forward, catches her wrist in one gloved hand, spins her around and pulls her down._

_Not quite into his lap; he catches her, slim fingers curving around her ribcage, holding her hovering over him._

Roxanne clutches the armrests of the chair, trembling, body poised just above—

_Megamind lowers her down onto him, hardness filling her up, the inhuman shape of him forcing her body to adapt, making her hips twist, riding the wave of him._

Roxanne hits the base of the toy with a gasp, hips twitching.

_Megamind's grip on her hips is viselike, forcing her still, making her stay in place. She squirms desperately in his lap, but he doesn't relent. With a cry, she takes hold of her own breasts again, cupping them, twisting and plucking at her nipples as she grinds in place, pressing her slick thighs together tightly._

_"Patience, Miss Ritchi."_

"God—fucking— _damn you—_ Megamind—"

_That soft, wicked laugh in her ear, Megamind's breath on her skin._

_"Do I need to tie you back up?"_

Roxanne _whines_ , involuntary and pleading.

_Another breath of laughter, and then Megamind slides his hands from her hips up to her ribcage, lifts her smoothly upwards, until only the tip of him is still inside her—and then pulls her sharply down again, knocking what little air Roxanne has left out of her lungs._

_Before she can recover at all, he's repeating the motion, moving her up and down on him as smooth and easy as if she weighs practically nothing at all. The rhythm fast and hard, the odd shape of him making sure she never gets used to the sensation, never forgets just who is fucking her. Roxanne holds tight to the armrests, fingernails digging in, breasts bouncing every time she slams down. Thighs still pressed together, pressure and friction, panties around her ankles._

_She can hear herself making little 'ah—ah—ah—" noises, in time with the rough motion; she squeezes her eyes shut, head falling back, gives herself over to the pleasure, over to_ **_him._ **

Heartbeat racing, her entire body trembling as if it's going to shake itself apart; arms and thighs starting to feel weak—they tremble, threatening to give out on her, and Roxanne gives a cry of dismay—god—she's so _close, come on; come on—_

Her eyes snap open, sudden explosion of inspiration; she lets herself fall fully down onto the toy before reaching for the little table beside the chair. She yanks the drawer open, scrabbles through the contents—yes, there's the lube she's taken to keeping here, although she won't be needing _that;_ jesus, she's never been this wet in her life; there's an actual _puddle_ on the seat of the chair. Tissues; an older, much less satisfying, disappointingly _human-shaped_ toy; her double-sided suction cup, also unnecessary at the moment; and— _fuck yes._

Roxanne snatches up the little silver bullet vibrator, clicks it on and—

 _A sinister_ **_humming_ ** _noise as Megamind, holding her still in his lap again, one arm around her waist, flicks the switch to activate the de-gun. The smell of ozone and lightning, and that crackling crimson glow, and Roxanne's heartbeat shivers into a faster rhythm._

_She turns her head to look at it, unable to help herself._

_He's holding it pointed at the ceiling, elbow resting on the armrest; the red light flickers over his face, dances in his eyes, casts the hollows beneath his cheeks into sharp relief. He sees her looking at him, catches her eyes with his own, and he_ **_smiles_ ** _, touches the tip of his tongue to the sharp point of one canine tooth, then runs his tongue over the rest of his teeth._

 _Terrifying and inhuman and Roxanne_ **_wants god she needs—_ **

_Megamind shifts the hand with the gun, bringing it in towards her—touching the tip of the barrel to the hollow of her throat, hot skin against the cool glass, pulse fluttering wildly. Slowly, he slides the gun down, trailing it over the curve of one breast._

(Roxanne is barely aware of mimicking the motion with the vibrator, further in the fantasy than in reality at this point.)

_The humming tip of it grazes her nipple and she gasps. For a moment he pauses—and then he flicks the tip of the gun back up again, across her nipple. Roxanne gives a shuddery moan and he laughs in her ear, rubs the gun lightly over her nipple again._

_Without warning, he switches the gun to the other side of her body, presses the tip of it to her other nipple, and_ **_holds_ ** _it there while Roxanne twitches and gasps, twisting uselessly in his grip, twisting uselessly_ **_around him, inside of her_ ** _._

 _Finally he has mercy and pulls the tip of the gun away from her poor overstimulated nipple; Roxanne sags back against him with relief, but he's already moving the gun downwards again, dragging it lightly across her abdomen and then_ **_down—_ **

_Her thighs are still pressed tight together; slick and trembling. When Megamind touches the tip of the gun against her there, her hips jerk, rocking her hard against the shape of him inside of her. She makes a sobbing sound and his breath hisses in her ear, his arm tightening around her._

_Again, he presses the tip of the gun to the juncture of her thighs, and this time Roxanne lets her legs fall open for him._

_The slide of lips over the side of her neck as he makes a darkly pleased noise against her skin._

_The humming barrel of the de-gun ghosts over her clit and Roxanne makes a helpless, needy noise. She pushes her hips forward, pressing into the sensation, and feels her body shift around the complicated shape of him. Hears his breath catch as it does._

_"—I think it's time," he says, voice low and rough in her ear, "for a little more—_ **_participating_ ** _—from you, Miss Ritchi; don't you?"_

_"—ah—"_

_Roxanne cants her hips forward again, into the vibration, around him, and Megamind growls in her ear as she gasps._

**_"Good girl,"_ ** _he says, that gorgeous silken menace in his voice gone all beautifully ragged around the edges. "Just—like that. Fuck yourself on me, Miss Ritchi; rub yourself off against my gun; I know you want to."_

Roxanne spreads her legs further, hooks her ankles around the legs of the chair, and arches her back, one hand gripping the armrest as she rolls her hips desperately, riding the torturously, inhumanly good shape of him inside of her. Pushing herself shamelessly forward into the maddening hum of vibration.

 **_"Yes,"_ ** _Megamind says, voice a raw, rasp in her ear. "Yes—good, so good—that's it—listen to your villain, now; that's what good damsels are for—good damsels do what their villain tells them to—good damsels get fucked by their villains—and you're such a good damsel for me, aren't you, Miss Ritchi; so pretty and helpless and desperate, now that I've got you like this—"_

"Oh god—Megamind—Megamind—please—"

 _Megamind jerks her down hard, slamming her fully onto him, at the same time pressing the humming barrel of the de-gun directly against her clit and_ **_holding_ ** _it there, firm and merciless and inescapable and—_

 _"Scream for me," Megamind snarls in her ear._ **_"Now."_ **

(Megamind _is_ the villain. She _is_ supposed to do what he says. As the damsel.)

_She does._

After— _considerably_ after, when she's stopped twitching, managed to disentangle herself from the toy, the chair, her own clothing, and at last stumbled into bed—

Lying on her back, boneless and panting a little, nerves still ringing, she stares up at the ceiling of her bedroom—the clearly visible ceiling, since she wasn't thinking straight enough to remember to turn off the light before she fell into bed and isn't about to get up and do it now—

Roxanne swallows, with difficulty.

Fuck.

This is.

A problem.

 _A really extremely bad and potentially life ruining problem shit shit fuck shit_ —oh—oh _fuck_ how is she ever supposed to _look him in the eye_ ever again and— **fuck** —the fucking **_de-gun—_**

She reaches out and takes the pillow and drops it down onto her _(burning)_ face.

And screams. _Again_.

Goddamn stupid fucking unfairly sexy infuriating criminal genius and master of all villainy _Megamind._


End file.
